Victorian Urban Legend: The Mourning Trick June 22, 2017
Author: Beach Combing | in : Modern , trackback
This is a great story which appears with the heading, ‘Scotch Ghost Story’. We are in Glasgow. Beach has no doubt though that it is a Victorian urban legend. Let’s face it, the tale is so satisfying that if it ever actually happened it would have been abstracted and told to everyone who would listen.
A well-looking girl, named Mary W., recently formed the acquaintance of the servant of a family residing in West Nile-street, and latterly she became known to the mistress of the house, who formed a favourable opinion of her. On Monday last the girl came to the house, apparently in much affliction, stating that her only brother had died on the preceding Saturday, and that her mother had departed this life on that very day. Amidst her sobs she begged, as a favour, that Mrs. S. would lend her a black dress and bonnet for the funeral on the Wednesday following, until her own mourning could be got ready. This was readily promised, and on the day appointed the girl was dressed respectably, if not handsomely, in clothes belonging to the lady, with which she attended the funeral, as was understood, and returned with the garments in the afternoon, when she obtained a promise that she should again have them on the following day, when she was to attend the house to dispose of her mother’s effects, to whom she was sole heiress.
Do you see where this is going?
About eight o’clock the same evening the bell in the West Nile-street house was rung, and the servant went to the door. She was heard to open it and in a moment or two afterwards screamed out ‘Mary’s mother!’ and then fell on the floor of the passage with a clash. A female inmate then proceeded to the door to see what had happened, but she followed the example of the servant by also screaming in dire alarm, and then tumbling over in a fainting condition. The mistress then went forward, and walking over the bodies of the prostrate maidens [great image], found a pale-faced, decent-looking woman standing in the passage respectably dressed, with a white cap on her head, and a good-sized haddock in her hand. She spoke not a word, but gazed intently on the two girls who had been frightened into oblivion by her very appearance. ‘Are you Mary’s mother?’ said Mrs. S. ‘I am,’ said the pale-faced woman. ‘Were you not buried to-day?’ ‘Not to my knowledge,’ rejoined the other. ‘Then come in.’ The matron was accordingly brought into the parlour, and an explanation made to her regarding the reasons why she should have been accounted dead and buried on her own daughter’s authority. On her part she stated that she had herself been within an inch of fainting when she noticed others go over her with a yell without any perceptible cause. She had noticed her daughter that very day dressed in a suit of mourning, and she had made free while out purchasing a haddock at any rate to call for the servant at West Nile-street to ask if she knew where the dress came from. No sooner were these explanations made than the girl Mary called, still in a very doleful mood. She was at once brought into the room and confronted with her mother, when she yelled in real alarum at the exposure, and bolted to the kitchen. Eventually both were sent off together, and the house settled into its usual wont, after having been for a time in great confusion. It is believed that the girl had fabricated the story of her mother’s death and funeral to obtain a suit of good clothes, in which to show off before her sweetheart or acquaintances; and at last she might have walked off with them altogether. At any rate, the West Nile-street ghost has given rise to a good deal of merriment in the neighbourhood.
Other mourning story scams: drbeachcombing AT yahoo DOT com. Sorry for typos, a bit drunk tonight.
Bruce T, 30 Jun 2017: with a fabulous mourning trick. This one goes back to the 19th cen. when it was used by Bible salesmen to sell their highest end products, they were pulling it until at least the 1960s. Ryan O’Neal uses it for just that in the movie “Paper Moon”. The fellow I knew that had the gall to pull it off was an old car salesman in the early 80s who worked with friend. Here’s how he worked it.
Every morning he would scan the obits looking for well to do men who had just died. He would make his list for the day and dive into the dealerships collection of phone directories looking up the numbers. He would then place his calls.
When someone answered he would ask for the dearly departed in a cheerful voice. When he was told the fellow was dead, he would say “Not Mr. So-So!” in fake shock and then say, “It looks like we’ve got a problem.” He’d then explain that old So-So had stopped by a few weeks before and placed and special ordered a car for his wife and it had just arrived, he was going to be in trouble with his boss, but he “Could take the heat for it as old Fred had passed” with the boss, implying heavily that his job was in danger.
If he wasn’t told to go to Hell, or told the fellow in question had been so sick he couldn’t have done anything in the past six months, and hung up on, he would proceed with next phase.
He wax about how much the late husband had wanted her to have it, and how much he seemed to love her. Did they think would she still want it as a departing gift, or did she want them to keep it?
As he was normally talking to a son or daughter, if they bought the tale, they would go off to consult Mom. If they said they came back saying they wanted it, he was assured a sale as the widow now held the assets and the insurance money and could pay in full. As she was too distracted by grief to want to haggle, he would sell it to her at way over invoice. If she didn’t want it, or they just hung up after that tearjerker, he would move on to the next name on his list.
He sold two to three cars a week that way for literally decades, moving from dealership to dealership, depending on the ethics of the owner, and the money the owner was making having that old goat as his top salesman, as he was also a lethal closer when it came to people who wandered on to the lot “just looking”. To quote the old saying “He cold sell ice boxes to Eskimos”, Beach, and knowing him he probably had.
I’ve never met anyone quite like him, and if I’m lucky I never will again.
Louis K writes, 31 Jul 2017: The reaction to this story, about the car salesman, by Bruce T. reminded me of a short story by Roald Dahl, The Bookseller (first published: January 1987 issue of Playboy. There a bookseller sends out invoices for erotica and other undesirable books, to widows. However, they get caught when they send one to a war veteran, who was blinded during a battle.
